


Fire Escape

by howthemoonsuitsthenightsky



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6624292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howthemoonsuitsthenightsky/pseuds/howthemoonsuitsthenightsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes revelations occur and they can all too easily send you into a spiralling train of unhealthy thoughts, but having them happen on stage complicates matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Escape

When the bass line drops out and the deafening sound of cheers drowns out my thoughts, I dare to open my eyes. The world around me is hazy and not just from the smoke I keep on being told adds to the 'mood' of the concert. I try and breathe in, but the air won't go down my throat, the muscles constricting tighter than ever before.  
"Thank you!" I hear shouted from somewhere beside me. I manage to force out a smile, but the effort is almost too much and I'm sure that someone will notice something is off, they have to. But all I can see around me are gleeful, smiling faces.  
I back up, almost tripping over one of the taped down wires, but I save myself before it becomes obvious. I can't get off stage quickly enough, slinging my guitar in the rack as I go, not even bothering to make sure it's in the right spot or strap it in, or anything else that I know I should be doing.   
Now I'm away from the bright lights, I can feel my airway starting to open up again. But it's not enough. I dart past the eyes that are starting to wander in my direction, down the flimsy metal steps on which I bounced up and down excitedly less than two hours ago, straight past the dressing room with its comfy sofas, through corridor after corridor until I'm not completely sure where I am anymore; the white lights and pale walls all seeming to fade into one bright void.  
I finally manage to stop, bringing myself up against a breeze block wall, resting my hands on the callous stone until I'm sure it's definitely there, until I'm sure I'm not completely losing my mind.   
My body wants nothing more than to slide down onto the linoleum floor and stay there for however long it takes, but I force myself to stay upright, knowing that this feeling will only become worse if I give in to what my brain, in all this confusion, is telling me to do.  
Rationally, I know I must be breathing because I haven't passed out yet, but I still can't feel the movement of air that would tell me I'm definitely right. I can't explain why my throat still feels so tight, why I feel as if someone is chocking me, squeezing everything out until there's nothing left.   
I look up and find that I've managed to come all the way to a fire exit and before I can stop myself, I'm pushing on the cold metal bar and the cool night air hits me like the scent of mum's cooking whenever I get to go home. I can instantly feel my head start to clear and my lungs fill in relief.   
I step out of the door and find myself on a black metal fire escape, a small ledge with a precarious looking ladder in the corner. Letting go of the door, I close my eyes and this time when I open them I feel alive.  
The dull city lights stare at me from my position at least thirty feet above the ground, but looking beyond them, I can see the edges of untouched countryside, the beginning of rolling hills and open pastures. A huge grin spreads itself across my features. I can feel the tops of my cheeks pressing up towards my lashes and can't help but let out a laugh. I don't understand it, but I let it happen anyway, revelling in the moment.  
A harsh white light suddenly erupts from behind me, stopping me in my tracks. Like a child caught drawing on the walls, I don't know what I'm doing is wrong until I'm facing the consequences. Luckily the voice is one I recognise, though the accusation in it scares me slightly. "Have you taken anything?" it asks, worry creeping in at the edges.  
"No," I tell the voice. "Really?" My own voice comes out a little higher, trying to get them to see the idiocy as clearly as I can. I sit down, knowing that the owner of the voice will do the same, legs dangling through the railings, swinging beneath the stars. A pair of greying skinny jeans appears beside my own as the light from inside fades.  
"Well, what was I supposed to think?" I shrug, but he continues. "Before the show you were really hyped up, but then you started acting weird and I've run around half the place only to find you cackling on some balcony."  
I turn towards the voice, what little light that is left still managing to illuminate his blond hair. "I do not cackle," I reply before looking back out, trying to see what seemed so close a few minutes before.   
"We can argue over that later." I can hear the desire in his voice to go back to our easy ways, to forget that anything might be wrong, because if cracks start to appear, I know it's not just me that will come crumbling down. "What is it?" He pauses and blows out hot air between his teeth. "What could make you come down like that?"  
"You might call it a revelation." I twist my fingers together as I try to find the right words to say, all while I can feel his gentle gaze boring through me. "It's crazy, isn't it? How far we've come." He murmurs in agreement, but doesn't interrupt further. "I guess it just hit me, seeing so many people cheering , screaming, holding up all those signs. Online, it's just a number, but when you see it for real..."   
I can't find the words to phrase what I want to say next, but somehow he understands, probably because he's in the same boat, though when I see the expression on his face, I understand that he went over this crest some time ago.  
"So it freaked you out?" He asks the question calmly, like how I imagine a therapist would, and just like I would to them, I start to open myself up to my friend.  
"Freaked out doesn't really describe it. I'm not worthy of all this praise and love and happiness." My fingers get caught together in their tangle and I can feel the thin layer of sweat on my hands. I shift my gaze out to the safety of the city. "We're so young and we've got so much already. I just feel like this won't last; it can't last."  
"I can't make any promises about the future," he lowers his voice to a whisper, "but look at that." I follow to where his arm is pointing. On the ground, a little way away, I can see fans starting to walk across the previously deserted pavements. They're chatting and smiling and singing, together. "We did that. We did it, the four of us. How can you look at them and say you're not worthy? You did that, Mikey." He moves his arm so that his hand is resting on my shoulder, a solid grip that helps to ground me.   
"We did, didn't we?" My smile begins to return as I look away from the forming crowds below, out across the city once again, where the lights seem just that little bit brighter than they did before.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 5SOS fic, how exciting.


End file.
